through me that night," he was talking more hurriedly. "You know what a
scoundrel I was! There's no use mincing words, no use holding up the
mask any more. If it hurts you, remember I'm not sparing myself;--I
couldn't spare myself, for you've made me feel too unutterably low. But
I do want to be honest with you!"

"Brent," she gave a curious little laugh, "what's the matter with you
tonight?"

"There's nothing the matter--yes, there is, too! There's everything the
matter. I'm just a curl of smoke from hell when I drink too much. Any
draft of desire takes me with it--sucks me up the black flues of
intrigue and adventure. I'm making no excuses, for I like it. It's
fascinatingly kaleidoscopic. It's Life; reflected and re-reflected in
Life's thousand mirrors, with the beauties magnified and the dull places
rubbed out. No apology for myself--but I'm accountable to you when
you're drawn into it!"

He was talking blindly, impulsively ahead, carried on a wave of self
denunciation, and not considering that she might be wholly perplexed by
the metaphors which sprang so rapidly from his tongue.

She merely stood looking up at him; understanding only that he was moved
by a tremendous force, and that somehow she--as he had just said--was
drawn into it.

"A week ago tonight," he began, but she gave a quick, inarticulate cry.

"Please don't say anything about that night," her voice was trembling.
"It burns my soul!"

"Yes, I will. We'll look at it squarely for this once, and your soul
will treat it calmly. Why not? Wasn't it your victory? Forget you're a
girl, and I a man, and for a minute let's have honest outspoken words
which might come from two people who've been through an hour neither one
of them will ever forget!"

"No, I won't ever forget," she murmured.

"Nor I. Did you know I was a sneak in pretending to love you then? Did
you know it was a lie?"

She could never have realized what it cost him to blurt out these words.

"I knew it when--I had a chance to think," she faltered, not feeling
that outspoken thoughts were as simple as he seemed to find them, "When
I saw it wasn't you that I loved, but just the things you said, I knew I
couldn't love you either. That's made it seem easier, Brent."

"And still you came to Arden to help me?" he looked curiously down at
her.

"But I'd forgiven you, an'--an' it wasn't all yoh fault!" Then, looking
up at him with hardly a trace of embarrassment, she added: "The blind
g